The story begins with an ass – not just any ass, mind you, but one created on the sixth day of creation itself! According to Legends of the Jews, this creature was gifted to Balaam by Jacob, intended to prevent him from giving bad advice to Pharaoh regarding Jacob's descendants. Ironically, it was Balaam's counsel that led Pharaoh to enslave the Israelites (Ginzberg). Talk about a plot twist!
Balaam, ever the image-conscious noble, brought along his two sons, Jannes and Jambres, because apparently, even evil prophets need company. And though God granted Balaam permission for his journey (to curse the Israelites, no less!), divine anger simmered beneath the surface. As God said, "Behold, this man! He knows that I read each man's heart, and knows also that he departeth only to curse Israel." (Ginzberg).
This sets the stage for a showdown. The Angel of Mercy, believe it or not, turned against Balaam, becoming an adversary in his path.
Now, here’s where it gets really interesting. The donkey, and only the donkey, could see the angel blocking their way. Why? Because God, in his infinite wisdom, shields humans from the constant barrage of angelic presence, lest we all lose our minds from terror (Ginzberg). Can you imagine seeing angels everywhere all the time?
The donkey's actions are far from random. First, she veers off the road, trying to avoid the angel standing in the middle of it. Then, as the path narrows, she can only turn to one side. Finally, they reach a place where there's no escape. These maneuvers, according to Legends of the Jews, were meant to teach Balaam a crucial lesson about cursing Abraham’s descendants. : if Balaam wanted to curse Abraham's children, he should have leeway on both sides – Ishmael's children and Keturah's children. If he wanted to curse Isaac's children, one side – Esau's children – would still be open to him. But cursing Jacob's children? Impossible! They are protected on all sides: by Abraham and Isaac, by Jacob and Levi, and by God above (Ginzberg). Quite the spiritual force field, wouldn't you say?
There's even more symbolism packed into this bizarre roadside encounter. The "wall on this side, and on that side" that Balaam had to pass through alluded to his inability to overcome Israel, who possessed the tablets of the law, "that were written on both their sides." (Ginzberg). The luchot, or tablets, were a powerful symbol of the covenant.
Finally, when the donkey reached the wall that Jacob and Laban erected as a testament to their peaceful agreement, she pressed against it, punishing Balaam for betraying Jacob's legacy (Ginzberg). Ouch.
So, what do we take away from Balaam's bumpy ride? It's a reminder that even divine permission doesn't excuse wicked intentions. It highlights the unseen forces at play in our lives, the protective power of ancestry and covenant, and, perhaps most surprisingly, the keen perception of a divinely appointed donkey. Maybe, just maybe, we should listen more closely to the animals around us. They might see things we can't.